Prove It
by LetsDoThisWritingThing
Summary: Adelaide Thuot is a New Orleans girl whose intelligence and carefully hidden life has caught the interest of Sherlock Holmes. She becomes his intern, and the two learn to work with one another as they solve cases around London. This story is pre-Watson. Rated T to be safe.
1. Caught in the act

_Callous on her middle right finger. __**Prefers handwriting over typing**__._  
_  
Hazel eyes, bigger than average, never focuses on one thing. _**Constantly aware of her surroundings, on edge and distrustful.  
**_  
Wiry figure, but in shape. _**A skinny brat who can run.**  
_  
Cajun accent, though this time he noticed that her emphasis on syllables varied on mood. _**Very sociable back in Louisiana's bayous and towns, picking up different dialects as a result.**

_Tan skin, heavily freckled. _**Often outside, on the move.**  
_  
Sported shorts and a tank top from last two visits, but is now wearing worn jeans and a large t-shirt. A rather neutral white t-shirt. _**She felt challenged and threatened by his previous deductions of her.**

**Did she have something to hide?**

If so, why?

Sherlock found himself stuck. This girl was a puzzle, more of a puzzle than he had anticipated or cared to admit. He could read her every day and know what she did down to what she ate for breakfast, but something deeper than her dietary habits laid beneath. The detective furrowed his brow as his growing curiosity burned to find whatever stories she was not sharing with him. A selfish desire grew in him to make her secrets his own.

* * *

Addie continued to fidget in place on the well-worn but comfortable couch in Sherlock's flat. True to her word, the first thing she did after school was change in the girl's locker room out of her uniform, and into the jeans and t-shirt she wore now. Then it was straight to meet her new boss's place. And she was wondering now if that was a smart idea.

The moment she arrived, he had her sit down, cup of untouched tea in hand, as he paced in front of her, his eyes never leaving her. After a moment of this, she became visibly uncomfortable and agitated. It was like he could read her mind, stare down her deepest thoughts with little effort. Addie hated it and wished he would at least _say_ something, anything, to let her know what was going on in that brain of his. She felt so out of place in the upfront world of this city, so unlike the mystery that veiled the bayou. Anyone could hide there, anyone could bury their secrets and forbidden treasures. But here? Addie felt like a diary whose lock was ripped off and read in broad daylight. Sherlock, though smarter than the others she had met, wasn't the only one to sense her aloofness, as aloof was not a common trait here. Some things she desperately hoped remained unseen, clung to her chest. This Cajun girl would fight to the end to keep her well-guarded privacy.

"I can tell you your life story...in light summary, anyway. But I'm sure you've heard enough from me." Sherlock eventually spoke. Without further explanation he took a seat next to Addie. She immediately scooted away a few inches, and crossed her arms across her chest as the cup dangled from one finger. Defensive as well? Then again, she was always skittish around him, as he began to learn. He made a mental note to watch her around other people. He continued on as if nothing in the world was upsetting her.

"Read me, Miss Thuot."

"Like a psychic?" Addie asked in confusion as she fiddled with her tea cup. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No, those people are nonsense anyways. Read my face, my movements, my mannerisms." he clarified. "What information on my life can you gather about me just from observing me?"

Addie frowned, not appreciating some of her old new age friends being called "nonsense". They made their humble livings by "reading" people of all kinds: rich, poor, young, old, skeptic and believer. Although she doubted their abilities as well, she did so with a grain of salt and was not against the possibility of such things existing.

Then again, perhaps they held the same deducing skill that Sherlock appeared to have, and merely hid this natural talent behind the smoke and mirrors of "magick" or "spirits". She wouldn't put it past the people of New Orleans to use smoke and mirrors; at night, the entire city unveiled the unknown and no one could be sure of what was real and what wasn't. It was far from the humdrum, busy beeline, logical air of London, and Addie realized with a jolt in her heart that she missed the more ethereal environment of her home. Before Sherlock could grow impatient with her, Addie shook those feelings from her and looked over him.

The girl bit her lip before speaking. The cup of cooling tea was set down on the table to buy her some more time. "Uh...you're tall, with blackish-brown hair."

Unimpressed, Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. Addie grumbled, not knowing what else to say. He wasn't doing anything: just leaning back, left leg rested on his right lazily, both arms leaning on the back of the couch. He gave the aura of boredom, not expecting anything. Due to his lack of personality in that moment, Addie continued on to the rest of his looks.

Beady, mean eyes; thin, long nose; high cheek bones and a long face; ears hidden behind his tussle of dark hair_._ Okay, so he was an ass. That wasn't new. So Addie continued onto his clothing. He wore a dark purple dress shirt, the top couple buttons undone; his slacks and polished shoes were a deep black. They were crisp and clean, unusually nice looking considering the state of the rest of the flat. Although she had not seen the rest of his place, she caught a glimpse of his kitchen. And it was _disgusting_. Even his living room was quite a mismatched mess, however comfortable it happened to be.

A smirk grew on Addie's face, and a twinkling mischievousness blinked into her eyes. She uncrossed her arms, and leaned forward a little. Sherlock did not miss this sudden change of mood and surge in confidence.

"You're wearing some mighty fine clothes." Addie pointed out. "Hell, ain't purple a royal color or something? Even your shoes are looking spit-shined. But then the rest of your place is a dump, and it doesn't match up."

"And? What of my taste in wardrobe in relation to my home?"

"You think highly of yourself. You wouldn't dress so fancy if you didn't, and it's like you're showing yourself off. But when you're home, you don't care about how things look 'cause it's just you. You don't have people over very often, I'm guessing."

Sherlock stiffened, his hands clenching before relaxing again. Addie reveled in her miniature victory, thinking she finally outwitted the supposed genius; at last she was the one with the upper-hand.

But then it started as a twitchy lip, then a grin, and then the low chuckles that sounded terse and demeaning.

"What's so funny?" Addie demanded, now hugging herself again and retreating to her corner of the couch. Why could she not get a handle on this guy?

"Oh, sorry. You just reminded me of someone I know. He often attempts assumptions on me as well."

Addie narrowed her eyes. Her mind argued to simply get up and leave, though her stubborn self silenced it before the idea took fruit. Quitting was the last thing she wanted to do in front of someone she wanted to beat in whatever game he was playing.

"But back to you: you _do_ remember why you're here, do you not?"

The events from the past several days flashed through Addie's mind, replaying them quickly yet in great detail...

* * *

Addie saw it immediately and knew the inevitable. It was an impulse she never denied, nor saw the point in doing so. And the apple of her eye? A small, but lovely thing, pretty as a pearl surrounded by sparkling drops of sapphire.

Well, it helped that it _was_ a pearl encircled by the blue jewels. She was bound to see something of the like in the museum's new exhibit. Why the curator trusted a group of inner city students she hadn't the slightest clue. Perhaps they were comfortable with their security, with a guard at every entrance and an enclosed camera in the middle of the room. Or perhaps it was the sight of their habited teacher, Sister Catherine, who held an aura of authority and sharpness. Surely a woman as stern looking as her could keep a group of rowdy teenagers at bay.

As the others played nice for the hour, the girl already slipped the treasure into her pocket. She knew no one was looking at the short, quiet one, and the jewel was placed in the very corner of the room, just outside of the camera's vision. She smirked, knowing the security would never see what she had done after looking at their screens before entering the exhibit. For their so-called tight security, these bozos sure didn't keep an eye on their own office. And Sister Catherine? She had worse ones to keep an eye on. Jack in particular had a habit of sneaking off. Along with his heavy footsteps, he was much too tall to go unnoticed.

_Idiot_, she thought. They never thought through their ideas, did they? But she did. She always did, and she knew it was the key to her success.

She missed it dearly. The thrill of snatching precious things unknown, and making a few dollars on the side. It didn't have a steady pay, and she learned that quick when her mother made her take a job at the local butcher shop. Often times gutting animals and cutting them paid more than pickpocketing...but it was also boring as hell. Addie discovered she'd rather be poor and run her own "shop" than live up to the typical, stagnant routine.

There was no way she could pawn the jewels off once she had them for good; at least, no where she knew yet. Addie knew all the unquestioning buyers by heart back in New Orleans, but here in London? She was a clueless twelve year old all over again, just like when she first started. No one would trust her here, nor did she know where to look. It would be some time before she was at the top of her game again. She was never caught back at home and she didn't plan on doing so across the pond.

True to her skill, Addie would never hear the fuss brought up after they left, and the curator realized too late that one of their pieces went missing. Too late to figure out that it was the short, skinny redhead riding back to the school on a run down bus.

After school, back at her uncle's apartment, Addie was enjoying her success for the day in relative peace, when there was a knock on her front door. Ignoring it, she turned up the volume of the TV and continued reading her magazine. Her uncle was working overtime in his office, so she thought it couldn't be anyone important. No one was truly close to her and she preferred it that way. Despite her ignoring it though, the knocking only got louder.

"Uuuuugh!" she complained, getting up from the couch. She didn't bother to turn down her TV show or put down her magazine, planning on going back to her routine as soon as possible. After returning home, she always threw her bag aside and pretended homework didn't exist, plopping down and relaxing. Sometimes she'd walk around town, and Addy figured she should probably be doing that; if there were any willing buyers around like at home, she'd have to look out for them. But the infamous lazies won out and she found herself in her uncle's living room.

Because she hardly talked to anyone, she assumed the person knocking would be someone meeting with her uncle. Although never interested in what the other was doing, Addy knew enough to assume it was a business partner of his coming over for a talk. It was not unusual for Mr. Thuot to push his niece into her room so he could have a mini-conference in the living room, or to have a colleague come over and do overtime in his office. That in itself didn't make sense, however, as her father was currently not home.

When she opened the door, it wasn't any of his usual friends, just as she suspected. Instead, there stood a particularly dressed man in a black overcoat and scarf, a messy head of dark hair at the top of his head. Barely reaching five feet herself, Addy took a step back to get a better look at his face.

"I assume you're Miss Thuot?"

Walking in as if he had been invited, he first went to the living room, looking around. Addie frowned.

"Who's askin'?" she asked as she closed the front door.

"The police department." the man started, not caring that he barged in. He flashed what looked to be a badge, putting it back into his pocket as quickly as it came out. "An Adelaide Thuot - who is you, I know - is a suspect in a recent robbery of the museum's exhibit."

The girl's face went blank, though her ears turned red. The pin hiding in her shorts pocket suddenly felt very heavy. Memories of events that chased her to London in the first place bounced around in her mind. She barely suppressed the nervous shaking she feared would overtake her, an all too familiar sensation when escaping trouble back home. If the man noticed her sudden inner terror, he didn't mention it, as he continued to look around the apartment's first floor. After he appeared satisfied with the kitchen, home office, and bathroom, he returned to where Addie was standing.

"Miss Thuot, would you mind?" he asked, motioning towards the couch. Addie didn't give a real answer. She looked him over, as if sizing him up. She was home alone and her uncle wouldn't be back for another few hours. How did she know he was even the real deal? Circling him, she watched carefully as the man turned his head to follow her. Just before he could catch her, she deftly snatched his badge from his pocket. Whatever it was, he didn't want her to look at it too closely; that in itself made Addie desire it. Eventually she sat down after pocketing the badge, crossing her arms and looking nonchalant as the minor adrenaline spike from earlier started to die off. He took a seat next to her.

"_Tu parles francais, non_?" the supposed cop asked with flawless intonation.

"_Que?_" Addy replied out of habit, caught off guard.

"You are Cajun, are you not?" the man asked. "Not only are you holding an obviously francophone magazine and speaking with the accent, but you are an olive-skinned redhead. There are not many ethnicities where dark skin is paired with light hair. You are also dressed for weather warmer than London has to offer in the spring, so I assume you recently moved here."

Addie could only blink in response. Still surprised, she set the offended magazine face down, as if it were telling him all of her personal information. Yes, she was half Cajun - her father grew up just outside the bayou, and later moved to New Orleans where he met his ex-wife. Although her father was blonde, she inherited her straight maroon hair from her mother. Addie was also sporting her jean shorts and tank top, too stubborn to dress properly for her new home despite the threat of a chill and despising her school uniform. It unsettled her how he could figure this out by just observing her. Most never went further than, "typical Yank".

"Who the hell are you? Your name, not just your job." she suddenly demanded, not liking how this man could outsmart her. He wasn't the first, but he was doing a good job of it.

"Sherlock Holmes, but that's not important right now, is it? You were on a school trip today and appeared to have nicked something that didn't belong to you."

Addy's hand twitched oh so slight, and Sherlock failed not to notice this.

"Your left pocket, empty it."

Her eyes widened. "How did you-?"

"Turn it out, Miss Thuot." Sherlock continued, his voice showing no room for arguments or explanations. Reluctantly and in partial shock, Addie took out the decorated pearl and displayed it on the palm of her hand. The older man took it and examined it under the light of the table lamp. The pin was carefully turned this way and that, glinting and shining under the 60 watt bulb. She grew puzzled as he eventually smirked to himself.

"Two thousand pound reward for recovering faux jewelry." he muttered under his breath in mild amusement. "The pearl is missing the typical imperfections a real one would possess, and the sapphire has the wrong amount of luster typical of the mineral."

"Not that the customer has to know." Addie shared, forgetting who she was speaking with.

Sherlock looked up. "Hm."

She swore the man could read thoughts, the way he scrutinized her. The hair pin was pocketed into his coat, and Sherlock got up to leave.

"I'll text you sometime. Perhaps we can talk about a few things. But first, I have more important things to do."

"I didn't give you my number yet." Addie mentioned, watching him walk to the door. Sherlock ignored her, seeing as he walked out without an explanation and loudly shut the door behind him in a hurry. He was gone now, leaving behind a perplexed Addie to think over what just happened. All she had to go on was his so-called "badge". But when she took it out and looked it over, she wondered why on earth it read "Lestrade" instead of "Holmes".

* * *

_meet me tonight at 22 Northumberland St cafe, 6:30_ _SH_

Addie looked over the text for the twelfth time that day, ignoring her English teacher; usually she didn't even go to class or stay for the whole session, but she wanted a simple distraction. It had been a week since Sherlock Holmes abruptly came into her living room, but she hadn't heard from him until early this morning. Addie didn't dare tell anyone, including her uncle, knowing it sounded strange that a fully grown man was asking a teenage girl to meet him for dinner. She knew it was professional, of course; she looked up his name and found out he was an independent detective, and from she could guess, he was interested in something she might know. She had no idea what, but Addie was smart enough to know other people wouldn't see it that way.

But other things were creeping into her mind as well. How did Sherlock manage to find out she stole the pearl? Why didn't he turn her in? No one came around to arrest her, so Addie assumed the guy didn't tattle. So what was he on to? Why was he even interested in keeping contact with her?

"Addie, pay attention. Your grades are horrible as it is." her teacher snapped, noticing her on her phone. Addie cursed under her breathe as the class snickered. She'd have to find her answers later tonight.

* * *

Addy felt like she was being stood up. It wouldn't be the first time. Checking her phone, it just turned 7:00. She scoffed in annoyance, the only thing keeping her there a burning curiosity to understand what the hell was going on with that man. She had her homework sprawled out before her, though she finished a few minutes ago and was too distracted to put it away. It was so easy, she may as well have waited to do it the next morning. Still, she wanted to occupy herself and the wifi in the place was cruddy. So instead of youtubing, it was homework.

"You're early."

Addie looked up and saw Sherlock taking a seat. "You said 6:30." she told him in minor annoyance.

"I see you didn't mind." he replied, taking a seat and glancing over her textbooks and papers. Wondering if he was going to make any more guesses on her life from what he saw, she instantly threw her schoolwork into her pack haphazardly. This certainly was new, being afraid of what else this man could find out to use against her. And she thought she was safe here in this city, away from her old life.

"Why aren't you turning me in?" Addie asked, getting to the point.

"Because that would be a waste of talent, Miss Thuot." Sherlock stated, leaning back and looking at the menu. "An entire team of investigators - as usual - failed to find out who did it. If it wasn't for me, you would have never been found."

"Proud of yourself?" she suggested with sarcasm.

"No, merely disappointed in you."

Addie was silent. She crossed her arms and looked over him, trying to figure out where he was trying to say. She already knew he wasn't a real cop. So what was he up to?

"What do you want from me?" she eventually asked.

"Just your internship." he stated.

"Intern for what?"

"My genius." Sherlock stated without any humility nor shame. "Believe it or not, there isn't always a serial killer to hunt down, or a heist to foil. Sometimes, life is as dull as the rest of these pathetic people that meander about in this city. Sometimes, I am left with nothing to do for months at a time and it's moments like those that remind me that I should find something else to do. I live for the thrill, but what's the point if I can't share and teach it to an ignorant mind such as yourself?"

The girl snorted. "I thought I had some talent, according to you."

"It's there, but it's incredibly immature and lazy. Yes, lazy. You are overconfident." Sherlock pointed out when Addie huffed at the truthful insult. "You managed to get the cops off your trail, but for what? A silly little hair pin for some air-headed, long forgotten princess? If it weren't for the payment of retrieving it, I never would have bothered looking for it and eventually you."

The silence between them was tense, and strangely embarrassing as well; despite hardly knowing one another, Addie felt she were being chastised, her pride hurt and her fear of being discovered intensifying. Those blue eyes began to search her again.

"But I know you're smarter than this, smarter than people will admit to think."

"Yeah, okay, try and convince my teachers that." she snapped, suddenly losing interest in the whole charade and wanting to curl up in her room back home.

"You may have convinced _them_, but not me. I saw your algebra equations; the work was done properly but the answers came up completely wrong. There were no eraser marks either, showing you knew perfectly well what you were doing. Is that how you hide yourself, by failing on purpose?"

This time Addie didn't look at him. Instead she chose to look at her twiddling thumbs as if they were the most interesting things in the world. She couldn't stand being read so easily.

"It's not uncommon for the gifted young to hide their talents if they are in the improper environment." Sherlock continued. His tone remained no-nonsense, yet it was almost softer, as if he understood something about her. "I can give you that proper environment. I can free you from the boredom of everyday drudgery, give you a real challenge, to refine your intelligence, and to put it all to good use."

Addie looked up. No one ever knew she faked her grades. No one ever caught on because they assumed the worst of her. Did he really mean he could use her knowledge and make it better? Her hazel eyes rested on Sherlock. He looked completely serious. She never realized it before, but no other adult in her life ever spoke to her like this. It was as if she were a near-on equal to him, and not the typical kid.

"So, what's this apprenticeship all about?" she said after a minute of silent thinking. Sherlock tossed aside his menu, as if nothing interested him.

"Everyday after school you will go directly to 221B Baker Street-"

"Okay."

"You will also come to me whenever I deem it necessary, I don't care what time it is-"

"Neat, no school."

"And you will do exactly as I tell you."

"Not so neat, but okay."

"I can also fire you at any time for any reason. Do not take this lightly." he warned, tightening his already curled fist.

She rolled her eyes. But she accepted, shaking his hand.

"Fine, whatever. But what happened to that pin I stole?"

"It's taken care of."

"But how did you even find out about me?"

And just like that, Sherlock Holmes was off again, leaving behind another confused Addie without an answer.

* * *

_...you do remember why you're here, do you not?_

Addie's mind returned to the present just as quickly as it left to the past.

"Yeah, I know why."

"Good. Now, let's go out for a walk."

Before Addie could adjust to the sudden change in plans, Sherlock was already throwing on his large overcoat and scarf. He looked her way, giving her a look that said _Hurry up already._

Soon Addie had her own Saints windbreaker on and they were out the door. She cursed at herself for neglecting the coat her uncle got her, as she left it at home out of spite. Hands dug deep into pockets in vain to escape the London chill and her nose and cheeks began to burn red. She found she couldn't stop shivering.

Sherlock didn't seem to care. Instead he walked in brisk, wide strides, causing the much shorter Addie to stumble behind him before she caught up in a fast walk of her own. Clouds of mist breathed out of her pink lips as she huffed along.

Soon her eyes began to roam. Vibrant against the chill, they drank in the small shops and cafés that they were passing. They felt familiar yet so distant, recognizing the comfort of the little places of food and entertainment, yet their structure was literally foreign to her. The tiny streets, equally tiny cars, and the bustling folk about her was a lot for her to take in. She had been living here for only a month and she still found it hard to get used to the sights of even the most typical of places.

As always when in thought and soaking up her surroundings, Addie's eyes glazed over. Her body relaxed and opened, though she still kept close to herself. Sherlock took notice of her observations and change in body language. She was learning but not entirely secure, as if hesitant to go out of her boundaries though she desired to do just that.

"You're out of your element, Miss Thuot." Sherlock stated as they walked on. "I can't have my assistant being so vulnerable. So we'll be going on the town tonight."

Addie's eyes lost their spark, instead becoming intense again and glaring at Sherlock. If she could navigate the streets of the French quarter at night, couldn't she handle London? "I'm not stupid, ya know."

"It's freezing and you're in a windbreaker. Shut up and do as I say." Sherlock told her matter-of-factually. Point proven rather rudely, Addie did so though she did not stop loosen up. "Now, let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

"Do you even enjoy free time? I thought that kinda stuff was boring to you." Addie told him as they entered a quaint, tiny shop.

"Play along, won't you?" Sherlock ordered in a low, quiet voice. She did so, giving him a funny look, and walked around the cramped aisles. Attention away from her mentor, Addie saw that the shop contained trinkets and objects of an African aesthetic. Not knowing if they were genuine from various cultures or generic tourist junk, she nonetheless browsed with interest. There were abstract statuettes, dark brown and black with swirling and dotted designs, as well as a showcase of brightly colored, beaded jewelry. Too obnoxious for her taste, but still pretty. She noticed Sherlock just a ways down from where she stood; he was skimming through a book on the traditional weapons of Zulu warriors.

"So...what are we doing exactly?" Addie muttered, slyly picking up a book at random as she came to his side, and not noticing that she held it upside down. Sherlock scoffed in annoyance, taking her book and placing it right side up in her hands. Ears burned as he answered.

"I told you, enjoying our time out." he responded. Though Sherlock's eyes viewed the man behind the counter through the reflection of the glass case, his book stood in front of his face. Addie caught onto his ulterior motives. Was the guy spreading counterfeit money? Selling stolen, exotic treasures from Africa's jungles? She too held her book up, eying the suspect in the same fashion as her mentor. So focused was she on the reflection that she missed Sherlock raising his eyebrows at her imitation. He snatched up her book, his amusement hidden under the facade of a stoic glare.

"Do try to act natural." he hushed her, before Addie could argue. She elbowed his arm before moving her attention elsewhere.

After a moment of looking through most of the shop, Addie picked up a palm-sized kalimba and turned it over, searching for a price. It was a lovely little instrument that resembled one she owned before; it broke before her move to London. She smiled at the memories of plucking the metallic keys mindlessly during a slow, humid Louisiana evening; sometimes a tune was produced, other times she merely enjoyed the sound the object produced.

A maroon head tilted in confusion when no pound amount was given. There was a sticker - and strange writing on it - but no legible price to be seen. Addie walked up to the "suspect": a clerk, and a greying, dark-skinned man wearing an Afghan sweater.

"Excuse me, but how much is this?"

The kalimba was taken as he looked at the symbol written underneath it. "Seven pounds, 10 if you buy the music book."

"I'll just take it without the book." Addie answered. The cash needed was thrown onto the counter between them before she even reached her wallet.

"It's on me." Sherlock said with a forced grin to the clerk. The man eyed him warily as he wrapped up the kalimba and placed it in a paper bag for Addie. When they left the shop and were once again in the cold, she stuffed it into her windbreaker and trudged onwards.

"So what was that about?"

"You'll know soon enough." Sherlock told her, more focused on finding the next suspected store than he was on his intern.

"I meant about the whole payment thing. I mean, I'm not bro-"

"Consider it a gift." he interrupted a little too quickly. Every step purposely drove Sherlock onto what he needed to do next...whatever it happened to be. He didn't even bother to look at his smaller assistant. Addie sighed and shivered, continuing the afternoon out with the strange detective and hoping she wouldn't get frostbite by the end of it.

* * *

**chatroom opened**

bg008 has joined  
g_eneral_1 has joined

g_eneral_1:

what's new

**bg008:** he came by again  
**intel008:** had a friend with him

**g_eneral_1:** who?

**bg008:** an american, a kid i think  
**  
g_eneral_1:** i assume they bought something

**bg008:** yes, paid in cash

**g_eneral_1: **so what's the problem

**bg008: **it just seems fishy  
**bg008:** never saw him with a kid before  
**  
g_eneral_1:** tell me if either come back, warn the others now  
**g_eneral_1:** but don't bother me again  
**g_eneral_1:** you know what to do

**bg008:** i do

**g_eneral_1 has disconnected**  
**bg008 has disconnected**


	2. Learning the ropes

Bone tired...so that was how it felt: the human skeleton aching and sagging from exhaustion. Literal exhaustion of the bones. Lethargic groans filled the still room as Addie woke up sore and stiff; she soon found her bones weren't the only part of her body that groaned with her.

For nearly three hours the day before, the two walked around, entering and leaving shops as Sherlock bought little trinkets and paid in cash. Some he managed to pick out himself; few others were "gifts", at the forced insistence of the older eccentric. Along with her new kalimba, Addie now owned a small Union Jack, a cheap red bracelet and a tin of shortbread cookies.

The ever-cooling night air, never stopping for rest, and the eventual amount of packages she began carrying wore out Addie's arms and entire being. As their little trip progressed, huffing and puffing from holding all those bags, Addie couldn't help but sense that he was up to something and she was purposely left out of it all. She was a pawn to a careful chess game of his; no doubt it was all a part of some strange, overblown plan.

If this were chess, then, who would be his opponent?

And what pawns were at the disposal of this opponent?

As these thoughts and more tumbled about in her mind, the sun's weak rays managed to peak through her window. Daylight. Morning. It all pointed to one thing: responsibility. How she _dreaded_ it. School was boring and pointless enough, and now along with her lack of good rest, Addie's frazzled brain would deal with the distraction of an ever-growing, enticing case that she wasn't fully a part of.

Wait, school.

Was it a school day?

Suddenly Addie bolted up. She forgot to set her alarm the night before and by the looks of the Sun, was well into late morning. A frantic search on her bed side dresser revealed her phone...saying it was Saturday.

"Aie!"

The phone tossed aside carelessly, Addie flopping back into her blanket-drenched bed to continue resting, despite her mini rush. Breathing in and out, the girl focused on her heart rate. Light yet deep breathes calmed down her nerves. Thoughts of even the elusive case drifted away, though they teasingly remained at the edge of her conscious mind. The symbol that once adorned the bottom of her now well-loved kalimba carefully floated at the edge of her inner-peripheral vision.

_I'll have to look it up sometime...I bet it means something to Sherlock. He shouldn't be the only one trying to figure things out._

A relieved sigh escaped her lips. Finally, with the most pressing matter in her mind at rest, she could finally focus on sleep. Addie wiggled a little, settling more into her plush blankets, before truly relaxing.

Until the phone buzzed.

The buzzing, being a signal for only her texts, was promptly ignored. Whoever it was could wait. A few minutes later, it buzzed again, and ignored just as easily. By the third buzzing session, Addie began tossing and turning, her long hair getting tangled and tickling her face. When it came again a fifth time, she finally relented with an irritated groan, reaching down to the hardwood floor to grab her cell. Squinted eyes, blurry in vision at first, soon saw that the texts were coming from Sherlock.

Another groan.

"Alright you _crapeau,_ whatcha want now?" she muttered tiredly. The first few messages simply stated:

_come to flat, urgent SH_

But they gradually grew more impatient. The final message blared:

_NOW. COME NOW. WHAT ARE YOU DOING._ _SH_

With a smirk she texted back:  
_  
Coming soon. Chill._

Addie got ready rather quickly and was out the door, taking her long green coat this time instead of her windbreaker. Even during the rush, however, the steel red bracelet was thrown on last minute; despite the strange circumstances surrounding it's purchase, it was still more or less pleasing to Addie's tastes.

The air bit harder than yesterday and clouds covered the winter sky. The sunshine from earlier was now choked out. Addie reluctantly thanked her gruff uncle for buying it as she started her journey to the other flat.

One cab ride later lead Addie to 221 Baker Street. After hurrying up the steps, she found Sherlock standing in front of a paper-littered fireplace. Numbers and pictures hung about in a disordered yet organized fashion. She threw down her coat and eagerly walked up to get a closer look. Her heart jumped slightly when she saw the symbol that haunted her memory. Finally, some real detective work! She would be intentionally involved! A part of her felt guilty for ignoring the texts now; she was missing out on all the fun.

"Oh good, you're here. Go make some tea, won't you?"

Sherlock waved her off with the flick of his hand. Eyes never left the pictures and writing in front of him. Whatever guilt his companion felt dissipated immediately.

"Tea?" she asked with a hint of hurt.

"Yes yes, brew it already. I've been dying of thirst while you wasted your time getting here." he snipped. Still his eyes remained fixated on his clues. "I'm getting dehydrated and I find it harder to focus."

A nose scrunched and eyes narrowed. "You sounded mighty upset over some stupid tea in your texts."

"I'm still upset. Don't push my waning patience."

The tone sounded sterner this time. Addie eventually grumbled under her breath and walked into the cramped kitchen. Whatever buttons he had that could be pushed, they could wait for another opportunity.

Addie found a new reason to detest her task: she had no idea what to do. Dishes piled up in the grimy sink, clean ones out of her sight and hidden in one of the many cupboards; everywhere she opened, instead of locating the elusive tea, would reveal a jar of fingers, or a bowl with a solitary eye ball. Pale hands grew paler as the minutes drew on. Was this a kitchen or a crime lab?

Or a crime _scene? _Addie wouldn't put it past the guy.

The fruit of her cautious labors ended with the discovery of an old but clean coffee mug. Addie hesitantly ran the water from the faucet; finding that the water was clean unlike the rest of the place, she filled the mug and placed it on the cleanest spot of the counter. The tea was finally found after taking a step back and hearing a crinkling crunch on the ground.

"Why didn't I step on you earlier?" she huffed in annoyance as she reached down for the packets.

After a long nuking session in the microwave, hands covered with oven mitts took out the steaming tea and Addie carefully escorted it to the round table next to the focused detective. Sherlock, who did not watch her come in, was now looking at her quizzically when she started to walk away with the oven mitts still on.

"The mug's hot." was all she said, shrugging.

"I don't think boiled tea necessitates the need for oven mitts, Miss Thuot." he commented as she disappeared into the kitchen. However, Sherlock's own hands were carefully trying to grasp around the impossibly scorching tea. His nose crinkled, the fumes smelling a bit burnt.

"You _did_ boil this, didn't you?" he called out.

"Duh." a reply came.

"How?"

"In the microwave. How else you gonna boil it?" Addie answered offhandedly. She almost jumped out of her skin when the loud thumping of Sherlock's running feet stormed into the kitchen.

"You _what?_"

Sherlock stood there looking appalled and disgusted. Imposing and dark, Addie never realized how scary he could be. And over tea?

"I put it...in the microwave." Addie spoke more carefully now. A finger warily pointed a finger at the device.

"That's not how you make tea you uncultured twit! You boil the water in the kettle! Pour the water over the tea bag! And then-"

"Jeez, what's the big deal? It's just tea!"

Wrong answer.

"_MRS. HUDSON!_"

Addie never felt her pride break so hard. She didn't give a single damn about tea, yet Sherlock made it out to be a grave offense to all of England; even his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, so kindly and soft looking, tutted the girl like a naughty child for failing to make the national drink properly.

"Really, what decent person doesn't know how to make a nice cuppa?" she sighed with a shaking head. "I thought you Southern ladies would know this at least. No one can marry knowing their love can't even make a steaming cup of tea."

"Well it ain't gettin' him any action." Addie retorted, elbowing the overbearing presence of Sherlock just next to her. To her surprise, the old woman chuckled merrily. _Not_ to her surprise, Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave off his usual air of annoyance.

After the brief – and rather-forced - tea-making lesson came to an end, Sherlock walked back straight to his picture-covered fireplace. Addie fought back the swelling disappointment growing in her chest. Yet again, she was left out of what she was promised and of what she desired: a case that would test and push her intelligence to it's full potential.

"Oh dearie, don't fret too much." Mrs. Hudson spoke assuringly. A fresh cup of creamy tea handed to Addie, she accepted it and took a sip as the landlady continued. "He's not much of a people person, not even to those he's often around."

"I kinda figured." Addie sighed. "But he got me into this so I could use my talent. All he's done so far is use me like a typical-"

"Intern?" Mrs. Hudson finished for her with a smile. "I remember when I interned once...it was before I met my husband, and I was training to be a secretary. Most of the time I was fetching tea and files and other nonsense. It's how they start you out, pushing you to see if you are willing to do anything to get what you want."

Perking up in interest, Addie asked, "Get what you want?"

"In your case, being a part of whatever project Sherlock has going on. Don't you worry though, I'm sure you'll get in right quick. Your eyes tell me you're too clever to be _just _an errand girl." she finished with confidence. Addie couldn't help but blush, the red popping more so than usual from underneath her dark freckles.

"Miss Thuot!"

"And the pushing begins!" Mrs. Hudson joked lightly as she took Addie's empty cup. "I'll take care of things here, you go on."

Addie silently thanked the matron, finding herself yet again rushing out the door, barely getting her coat on in time to beat out the cold.

"What's up?" she asked. They walked the opposite direction now; for sure they were not making a repeat of yesterday.

"Making a visit." Sherlock answered. A tiny flash of red poked from underneath Addie's green sleeve.

"I see you're enjoying your gift."

"Just playin' the part." she defended stubbornly. The metallic bracelet suddenly felt quite cold as it touched her bare wrist. "It's the most I can do, what with you keeping me out of everything."

"Good. I was afraid you would be poking your nose into it, rather than going along." Sherlock quipped in return. "It'll make this visit easier."

"Where are we going anyway?" Addie almost demanded. Sherlock finally hailed a cab and they got inside; still, he did not answer.

"You don't take kindly to authority figures." he started after they settled in. Pedestrians and grey buildings passed by lazily. "If I told you, you wouldn't be here."

"You don't know that." the challenge came. Her voice was quiet with frustration, though she refused to look Sherlock in the eye.

"Don't know? Me? It's obvious enough from your inability to follow the simplest of orders given to you, only relenting in the end for your own benefit. It's not just laziness, I suppose, that stops you from accomplishing anything."

Again with his deductions. Again with his near-on mind reading. Addie finally looked up and scrutinized every last speck of the man. She noted the dark colors of his scarf and long peacoat: the colors of power and confidence. The way he threw up the collar around his neck, accentuating his high cheek bones and long face, also caught her eye; trying to appear confident in features as well? He looked stern, but not overly stressed or even irritated. Indeed, Sherlock was calm and focused. What he shared about her was simple truth, done out of practicality; spite or anger had nothing to do with it.

Instead of finding a way to retaliate against him, Addie only discovered with great humility that Sherlock was not only right: but he was too skilled to be tricked or beaten.

Or was he? Addie found herself suppressing a smile as she thought of ways to out do him.

No other words were exchanged. Until Addie saw their destination.

"Come on! The cops?"

They got out once the cab came to a halt. It was a professional, sleek building, and would have been considered friendly-looking as well if Addie were another person entirely.

"Told you so." was all Sherlock answered with. Reluctantly Addie followed him inside. Her stomach knotted up; she left behind her old life in New Orleans, whatever theft she committed here in London thus far. And yet it were as if every sinful deed of her past, both petty and great, forged themselves into chains and draped openly upon her shoulders and chest, wrists and ankles. Every name and face associated with even the darkest of her days were stuffed into the most secret places of her mind. Addie - even if unnecessary to do so - prepared defensively for any possible attack on her record.

_But it's impossible for them to know. We all made sure no one would know._

Addie snapped out of it before even Sherlock could notice the change in her eyes. She couldn't let anything slip, not here with that man in her company.

"Listen carefully, Miss Thuot, because I need you to work quickly and silently." Sherlock muttered to her in a low tone. The ringing of phones and chatter of the various cubicles prevented anyone else from hearing. Her ears perked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to meet with Lestrade, he's just up the hall. But I'm going to ask you to grab me a cup of coffee _there._"

She noticed the break room, getting closer to it as she kept up with Sherlock's pace. "You want more than coffee, don't ya?"

"Smart girl. Across from it is a file room. Get the orange one labeled "g" underscore one. Go."

He lightly nudged Addie into the break room. She stood there partly in shock after stumbling in, as two cops sat at the table, chatting innocently enough while another was messing with the vending machine.

Every fiber in Addie's being told her to run out of the place like it was going to explode at any second. There were few times before when she found herself in a police department of any kind, and it wasn't to grab a cup of joe for a friend.

Ha! Friend. Sherlock was no friend. She couldn't trust him as much as he most likely didn't trust her. Addie forced herself to walk forward regardless, knowing she was given some sort of opportunity to participate more actively in the case. Maybe Sherlock wasn't so bad after all, asking her to steal from cop files.

The styrofoam cup was large, and filled to the brim with caffeinated dark roast. After drowning it with pumpkin spice creamer and sugar, Addie turned her attention to the closed door across from the small break room. The other cops continued to chatter away, and brushed passed her as they returned to work; she contemplated how to go about things when she saw the security camera just outside the door, but her heart skipped a bit when it started waving at her.

Was that Sherlock giving her a sign?

Like when Addie had stolen the pin from the museum, she knew she had the opportunity to grab and go. Others were gone now, and Sherlock possibly had security distracted as well. Unlike last time, however, Addie found herself hesitating. It was as if her mentor were talking down her talents, reminding her of her failures.

_You are overconfident. Lazy. Immature. Ignorant-minded._

_Shut up._ Addie told the imaginary Sherlock. He stood tall and dark, even more so than his real counterpart, his eyes judging her harshly with crossed arms. _I can do this better than you think, _she finished. His baritone voice stopped abruptly. Then, she saw imaginary Sherlock's smirk in her mind's eye.

_Prove it._

Addie replied with a smirk of her own. _Damn straight I will._

The unlit room stood just before her now. A few large sips were taken from her coffee. As she drank it in, Addie looked this way and that from the corner of her eye, making sure no one watched. She was clear.

The door was not locked; well, that was one obstacle she could avoid. No hair pins to bend and ruin. Quickly the door was shut with no light turned on. Only the hallway LED filtered through, just enough to guide the girl without drawing attention to herself. And she did her work.

* * *

"See? Absolutely faulty!" Sherlock pressed on, practically laying over Lestrade's desk as he reached and wiggled the camera remote. "It moves much too slow!"

"Stop that!" the detective yelled as he jumped up. "Jesus, Sherlock, since when did you even give a damn about our new security system?"

By now not just Lestrade, but also Donavan and Anderson were pushing the man off of the desk. No one watched the sleek computer screen, much less the tiny box in the corner showing Addie walking into the file room. Good, she wasn't doing so bad so far.

"Don't you poor sods hire me to do your work?" Sherlock continued, acting affronted as he smoothed out his sleeves. "Surely-"

"You help us out when we call _at the scene_." Donavan corrected in frustration. Her forehead cringed in a way that gave away her growing migraine. Drinking out last night, was she?

"And you aren't exactly an expert in security, I think." Anderson added with disdain. The peculiar stain on his shirt, a stain only created by liquids of high alcoholic content, did not go unnoticed.

"I was expert enough when I saw how shoddy the history museum's own system was. Had to point out all 53 flaws of it myself!"

_Where are you, Thuot?_

"Gee Sherlock, care to share who you think done it?"

"Anderson, not now!" Lestrade said, taking his seat back at the desk. Sherlock hid his relief when he saw that Addie's little quest had gone unnoticed thus far. He could care less about Anderson's accusations, so long as his partner did her part without any fuss.

"Sup?"

Speak of the devil!

Addie stood in the doorway. Her coat front was open now, her purple Ramones shirt showing beneath as she drank from a large coffee cup. Long red hair stood up slightly around her shoulders from static, and appeared to care less that the others stared at her sudden appearance. Only Sherlock could sense her nervousness around them. Her eyes darted a little too much, giving away her desire to run out; despite this, the rest of her face and stature stood casually.

"Oh, is this the intern?" Lestrade asked, trying to turn the conversation elsewhere. He relaxed behind his desk drinking from his own coffee cup. Donavon's curiosity piqued at the new face, though she did not actively pursue any conversation. Anderson glared at the girl as if she were Sherlock himself, despite being a scrawny little thing with a freckled face.

"What are you, twelve?"

"What are you, a nosy prick?" Addie retorted without a care of how she presented herself. Sherlock stifled a chuckle with a small cough before speaking; Lestrade almost choked on his own drink.

"Miss Thuot is quite capable for this work, if you couldn't tell from her quick thinking." he explained. "I also see you are drinking the coffee I asked for."

"Oh yeah, sorry." she said, shrugging, before taking another slurp.

"Well, I'm sure you all tire of my presence. Miss Thuot, let's take our leave."

"I just got here!" Addie said as she was pushed out. The office door shut loudly behind them as she was urged forward by a forceful hand on her shoulder. Now empty, she threw out her coffee cup into a garbage can as they walked down the street.

"You took too long." Sherlock answered. A cab was hailed and they got comfortable inside. "Once we're back, I'll need what I asked for."

"Um." Addie bit her lip. "About that. Yeah, I didn't get the file."

"You _what_?"

"I couldn't find it! I was nervous!" she defended lamely. Sherlock's eyes narrowed. Her fingers were twitching ever so slightly, like the day he confiscated the stolen hair pin from her. Even her ears reddened slightly.

"Your coat."

"What?"

"It has two layers." Sherlock began stiffly. He grabbed one open flap of the green, synthetic fabric. "The one underneath is some sort of rain coat, or windbreaker. On top of it, connected by the zipper, is the thick part of the coat. I noticed it when you walked into Lestrade's office."

Addie's face grew still, her reddening ears betraying her sticky fingers even more. The zipper connecting the two coats together was jerked open; Sherlock gracelessly whipped out the hidden file in-between them and stuffed them in his own large coat.

"Don't you ever lie to me again, Miss Thuot. I'm too smart for that."

She sunk low into her seat and zipped them together again before closing the front.

"I just thought..."

"Thought what?" came the irritated tone.

"I just thought I was smarter than you." she told Sherlock with a weak grin. He gave her a long, hard look, as if assessing her sincerity. A sigh eventually escaped his lips.

"You thought you could do a better job than I in solving this case?" he asked as they reached his flat again. They stepped outside.

"I _would_, but you keep hiding all the clues from me. How else was I gonna see it?"

They continued to argue as they went inside. By now it was the late afternoon, and they could smell Mrs. Hudson baking some scones for tea later that day. However, they were too busy debating and talking to truly pay attention to their grumbling stomachs.

"I'm just saying you're not giving me a chance! How else am I gonna learn?" Addie insisted.

"Am I truly your only outlet for educating yourself? Must I spoon feed everything to you like the demanding little brat you are?" Sherlock retorted. Addie scoffed, offended. He sunk more into his armchair, long legs sitting indian style as he watched some brainless game show. Though his eyes bore into the television, he was fully engaged with challenging her mind, making her think. He found the whole moment rather relaxing.

"That's how an internship works." she insisted.

"That's not how _I _make it work." He shifted slightly, now leaning his head on his hand. "I promised you opportunities, not an outright tutorship. Don't you know how read? Use a library? School teaches you nothing useful and I don't plan on replacing your teachers. If you want to be smarter than me – as unlikely as that is – then you _must_ explore the world. Do things no one else would do. Learn what everyone else wants banned or stuffed away out of sight."

_I think I did enough "exploring" back home. _Addie told herself in silence. She lay flat on her back onto the couch now, having the whole thing to herself. It gave her time to stare at the ceiling until she began to see shapes in the tiny specks and cracks; enough to think about New Orleans, and it's melting pot of characters and settings. And beyond New Orleans, there were the bayous and the creatures that dwelled within. Her father's cousins lived there still, loyal to their roots and desiring simpler ways of living.

And now, London. It was on her list of places she had visited. A frown formed when Addie realized that she truly hadn't explored the city yet. She had kept putting it off, relaxing from her usual thievery until she felt ready to restart the old business. Yet now, she was one doing the snooping around to stop those like her. Things changed so fast in such little time.

_Maybe I should look around tomorrow. See what makes this place tick. _Addie smiled. Yes, that sounded nice, actually. Better than laying around on her uncle's place at least.

Sherlock noted the lack of a snarky reply after a few minutes. The laughs from the TV sounded muffled and static.

"You look like you're thinking."

Addie punched the musty pillow under her head before responding. "Just doin' what you told me to do."

"Well if all you're going to do is think then get out of my flat."

"Because you're _so_ busy." she pointed out as she sat up, gesturing towards the program he watched.

"Your thinking is loud enough to disturb even my tellie time." Sherlock chided. "Get out and let me enjoy some quiet, won't you?"

"As His majesty wishes." Addie rolled off the couch with an aggravated grunt. She rolled again onto her feet, getting ready to brave the cold air outside. Her arms and legs stretched out, popping a few joints, before she finally made her leave.

Sherlock waited until he heard the door shut. Getting up and looking out the frosted window, he watched as she turned the corner. He counted to 100 before he felt sure the girl was gone. By then a portion of the window was misted by his warm, steady breath. No sign of Addie was left, so Sherlock returned to his little work corner. Despite the piles of symbols and notes strewn about, only the file and it's content could possibly connect it all.

Such unnecessary precautions the police were taking, hiding away such a crucial file. It was beyond him why they refused to release them to their best private detective. Lacking understanding and being wary of Sherlock notwithstanding, in the end they begrudgingly knew he was, frankly, much better at figuring out these puzzles.

But when Sherlock opened the file, there were no police reports, pictures of other suspects, not even anything related to his case. Instead, page after page, in firetruck red and printed in a large font, he read:

**smarter than you! :)**


	3. It's only the beginning

**This chapter was so hard to write ugh; it's certainly not my favorite so far either. ;_; Sorry it took so long. I hope ya'll enjoy regardless. **

* * *

Addie paid dearly for her little prank. Sherlock failed to appreciate the humor of being tricked; as such, he made her work more of a hell than necessary.

Oh, she was a part of the case now, as she read the g_1 files. No doubt about that. Sherlock had no choice now that she cleverly snuck into the whole affair. Addie received all that her heart desired: intimate dealings with the trafficking going on, extensive knowledge on all those involved, even other detectives who were also on the case.

But Sherlock made the poor girl work for it.

None of this dampened her spirits; not one bit. Addie rather prided herself on outsmarting the self-professed genius. The coat trick worked just as she had hoped, allowing her time to read up on the g_1 files during her ride to her uncle's apartment. Strangely enough Sherlock did not call or text her that evening, or at all. That Sunday she spent time leisurely strolling about on local streets. It was no trip to the Tower of London, but it was a start to her journey to knowing the place.

That Monday after school was when the hell began.

She had the files with her, tucking it safely inside a glittering, hot pink folder she picked just for Sherlock. He sat in his armchair, the TV off, when Addie arrived. Fingertips touched, resting delicately under his chin; he stared straight forward, lost in his intricate musings. Though he leaned forward, leaning on his knees, his was stiff.

Addie did not miss the tense clench of his jaw. Sherlock was not happy.

"I read the files." she eventually muttered quietly. The few minutes of silence that stagnated the room since Addie arrived unnerved her.

"Obviously."

That dark voice again. It spooked her sometimes. Imaginary Sherlock, looming over her mind even now, did not help at all. He stood as still and dangerous-looking as his real counterpart would have had he not been sitting in his deceptive calm. Addie tried to push him out of her mind before continuing. Dealing with one Sherlock at the moment was enough.

"So...you want it back?"

Still staring into the empty television screen, a hand whipped out impatiently for the folder. She handed it over without any further fuss. Sherlock sat up a little; the folder was opened and he flipped through the files, skimming them with disinterest. Then it was closed and tossed back to her rather roughly.

"These files are useless. To me, anyway. It seems Lestrade had nothing to hide from me as I had thought."

"What?" Addie gasped. She flipped through the pages herself. It was all new to her, of course, but was this all that they had to go off of? According to what she read, there was nameless trafficker who went by "G1". Some thought it referred to the name General. What he, or she, trafficked was largely unknown, though it was suspected to be imports from other nations. His success lay in the closing and opening of random shops, each one unique from the other, using an entirely new system of symbols to advertise their wares.

Over all, the details were vague, wish-washy. Other than a list of closed-down store fronts that previously held the stolen "items" and where they came from there was nothing much of use.

"I'll need you to return it. You know where the station is now." Sherlock continued. He returned to his staunched over, deep-thinking pose.

Addie stiffened. "You mean by myself?"

"Being rather busy at the moment, yes, by yourself."

And that was how Addie returned, alone, to the police station. Again she found herself standing in front of the file office door, the lights inside, as usual, off. But how could she do it? There was no Sherlock to distract the new security system, nothing to aid her in returning the files unnoticed.

The papers were tucked back into their original, bland folder, hidden away again in her warm green coat as before. Imaginary Sherlock sneered at her cowardice and fear.

_You claimed you are smarter than I, a professional! Surely this is easy enough for you to figure out. _He told her cruelly. Vibrant eyes judged her tiny, shaking frame, egging her to think fast and do something already.

_No, I need to be calm, think things through_, Addie told herself firmly. If she worked right under the cops nose, she could do it again, with or without her mentor.

"Oh, _you_ again."

Addie recognized the voice, though she only heard it once before. Anderson leaned on the doorway of the break room with a styrofoam cup filled with fresh tea in hand. Although his hair had the air of being combed and cared for, she couldn't help but think it looked wiry and even greasy, a tussle of mousey brown framing his pale face. It sat there, gaunt and long, his nose just the same. Beady, dark brown eyes stared at her with obviously distrust. He couldn't have been standing there for long.

"What about me?" Addie asked in reply. She tried her best to keep her tone even.

"Aside from looking like you just got dropped off from school, you're not here with your psycho friend."

Addie reddened ever so slightly; a hand self-consciously smoothed her plaid school skirt, almost forgetting she wore her homely uniform. What could she say? Was he catching onto her misdeed already? After those years of working under the noses of New Orleans' police men, she still couldn't feel confident around those folk.

"Maybe...I just like visiting."

_Convincing response, Miss Thuot._

_You shut your mouth_, Addie snipped at Imaginary Sherlock. He was smiling in amusement now, practically eating up her bumbling attempts.

"Oh sure, _visiting_." Anderson continued, completely clueless of the argument going on in her head. He eyed her more carefully. "Traveled across the ocean from America, you did, just to visit our out-of-date coffee maker."

Addie did not know what to respond with. No snark, no insults, nothing. Any voice she had hid away instinctively. When he saw the girl would not respond, the man sighed in annoyance.

"Look, kid, I don't like you sneaking around here. Just run off, will ya?"

"...A'ight."

One pregnant, awkward pause later, Addie walked away. Imaginary Sherlock taunted her ceaselessly.

_Not as smart as you think. Looks like you still have to learn a thing or two from me. Overconfident, immature, lazy, ignorant-minded: just as I thought you to be._

_Aren't you supposed to be some kind of Jiminy Cricket? Help me out here. _Addie told him as she tried to squish down feelings of dread.

_I am not your adorable animal friend armed with rainbows and glitter to soften your way into destiny. _The response was harsh on her inner ear.

She was outside again; there was no point in trying anything in the building. Anderson would certainly spot her re-entry and then the file. People bustled to and fro around her, a few bumping into her along the way without apology, as Addie simply stood there at a loss. The police would sooner rather than later discover it missing; perhaps they knew even now. Either way there was no use in keeping it. An older man passed by, throwing his empty paper bag into a grimy looking garbage can. Green eyes widened in hope.

_Don't you dare you insipid, foolish-!_

But it was too late. The g_1 file was slipped out from between her coat layers and deftly tossed in with the moldy trash. Addie walked on without missing a beat, feeling her face burn up in dread at what she just did.

Imaginary Sherlock was livid and almost as wild as his curly hair. _What in the hell was that?!_

Addie, standing much taller than she felt, replied, _My brilliant plan to keep our names in the clear. _

_Besides, the real Sherlock doesn't have to know, right?_

Indeed, no one had to know. Imaginary Sherlock could disagree and call her names to his heart's desire; but at that moment, Addie could care less as she sighed in temporary relief.

Before entering Sherlock's flat again, Addie made sure her fiery hair covered her ears. There was still much she had to do to stop her ears from reddening every time she hid something from her mentor; for now, her ears would be shaded against her dark red locks. She went inside after being satisfied with the result shown on her camera phone.

"You still sittin' around?" Addie noted. Sherlock did not look to have moved an inch since her departure. Happy that the focus was not on her she continued the one-sided conversation. She peeled off her coat as she spoke.

"You know, I never was introduced to them cops you work with. I met one while I was there. That guy, Anderson, I think he called you a psycho."

"High-functioning socio-path." Sherlock grumbled. His far-off stare transformed into a glare, piercing into the blank TV screen. Addie, her boots now off, flopped onto her belly and laid facing Sherlock on the couch.

"What's the difference? All ya'll crazy anyway."

"The difference is that I'm smart about what I do." he answered in annoyance. He got up, and finally looked over at her.

Addie could recognize the gaze now, the one that warned her that Sherlock was trying to observe her being, assuming what she was up to and what she just did. Ears burned under her hair, safely covered; she smiled innocently enough as she placed her hands under her chin.

"...Put your shoes on." was all Sherlock could say. "There's something I want to show you."

"What about the case?" She did as she was told anyway. "Aren't we gonna investigate and stuff?"

"As far as I know, the case is cold. I'd rather spend my time being more fruitful, and - hurry up you lazy girl!" he suddenly snapped, noticing that Addie took her sweet time stretching and getting comfortable. Only one boot was on and her coat remained on the couch's arm.

"It's not lazy, it's called bein' _relaxed_." Addie corrected with a stifled laugh. Now that the threat of Sherlock finding out her misdeed was gone, she suddenly felt lighter. "Geez, are you always so wound up?"

"I am not wound up, I merely have high expectations."

"Like I said: wound up."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Addie eventually dressed for the outdoor weather, and so the two left. The sun was nearly under the horizon now, many of the city lights brightening the early evening. Addie smiled when she saw the tip top of Big Ben in the distance.

"Have you ever seen the Thames?" Sherlock asked after a while. Addie looked up at him, surprised. She did not anticipate such a casual question.

"Um, no, I guess." Addie told him. They rounded another corner, and the dull whisper of running water covered by city activity brushed her ever so lightly. She hopped over a large crack in the sidewalk, and began a silly game of avoiding other crevices. Her eyes looked down, entertained by her little jumps, though she continued to speak.

"We're goin' to the river?" she said.

"Consider it one of those lessons you've been begging me to give you." Sherlock said. They were approaching a park now, though they walked just along side of it. Addie began to wonder if she should have warmer tights underneath her skirt. The night was here now, it's darkness matching the hard bite in the growing breeze. To her surprise the air also felt thicker, as if it were humid.

They soon came up to a bridge, cars and busses whizzing back and forth. She had a feeling they weren't using the bridge.

"Careful now, the water's cold and I'm not going to take you to the hospital if you fall in."

He slid down the slope as if he had done this a million times before. Addie treaded much more slowly after him. She was half way down under the bridge when she slipped quite a bit, getting mud on her hands and arms and almost tripping further to the bottom. A protruding boulder caught her fall and she lightly jumped to the river bank. Mud and grime shook off of her body when she flapped her arms towards the ground.

"So what am I learnin' to – Holy Hell!"

Half-way out of the icy river lay a rotting, water-logged pig. The creature looked frozen, and even slightly chipped, the thick skin also puffy and blue. Around it's neck was a metal brace, connected to the chain like an organic anchor. Sherlock struggled to fight against the currents and urged her over.

"Take a bit of the chain – that's it – now pull!"

Not a moment longer and the whole pig surfaced. It dumped unceremoniously onto the sand and dirty snow.

"What kind of messed up stuff you teachin' me today?" Addie asked as she caught her breath. Sherlock took out his phone and a pocket flashlight, taking clear pictures of the cadaver.

"You are going to help me learn what happens to the decaying bodies of murder victims." he took another shot, and then kicked the pig onto it's back. "Dumping bodies into the Thames is a common and easy way for murderers to dispose of the evidence. Still, not the most clever."

Addie crouched down. She was no stranger to dead animals, though she was used to working with them headless and fresh.

"Although pigs have much in common with human anatomy, I am still no expert on swine. That's where you come in." he continued, his photography done and handing her the flash light.

"What makes you think-"

"Your hands, Miss Thuot. I could tell from your hands." he said dismissively. "Now tell me: what can you gather from what you see?"

Addie glared at him before aiming the light again on the belly-up pig. She was going to have to read up all those wall of texts on Sherlock's website if she were to be on par with his observation skills.

"Um...well, it's frozen."

"_Do_ go on."

"No need for the sass." she muttered under her breath. She leaned in closer; the stench of the thing made her pull up her coat over her nose. The light went over the pig's belly and feet, and even at the mouth and eyes. Despite being frozen, and having looked to be frozen for quite some time, there were still a few signs of decay as well.

"When was the pig thrown in? Like, in the summer or winter?"

"You tell me. What can you infer from what you see? From what you know?"

Addie thought hard before answering. Sherlock was surprisingly patient in waiting for her answer.

"Maybe...maybe it was in the river when it was warmer out. Then before it got too rotten, the winter came and made it too cold to decay anymore." she eventually put together. _Did we ever go over stuff like this in biology?_

Sherlock nodded. He did not give any other indication of whether or not he as satisfied with the answer.

"Decent enough explanation I suppose. Well, let's dump the fellow back in."

The two stood, using their feet to roll the pig back into the depths of the Thames. It fell in with a large splash, spraying their ankles, before it finally sunk.

Addie looked up at the steep bank and groaned. Did she really have to climb up that thing? Big Ben chimed eight times in the background as they made their way back up.

"You know, I didn't think bein' an intern entailed me sneaking to the river at night." Addie huffed out as she lead the way up. Sherlock insisted, and for good reason. The girl already nearly slid down twice, and had to be caught and pushed back into place.

"When you start doing what needs to be done, you often find yourself well away from the box you confine yourself in." he grunted, catching the bottom of her boot again and giving her a boost. It was all that she needed to clammer back to the top on her own. She offered a hand to Sherlock but he merely climbed to the top on his own in one pull.

Addie looked over her front and saw it covered in mud and moist from the snow. She was already shivering.

"Well, maybe my box is a lot drier and warmer at the moment." she started as they walked back towards his flat. Once inside, Mrs. Hudson was distraught at the sight of the near-frozen girl.

"Sherlock! What on earth are you doing this girl? Really! Shouldn't you be back at home, dear?"

Addie allowed herself to be fussed over, enjoying the attention. Her coat was peeled off and taken to the bathroom to be wiped off while the land lady started up a kettle for tea. She was also given a cozy, well-worn quilt, ordering her to sit down in front of the heater, and to take off her drenched socks and boots. Sherlock retreated to his room, laptop at hand, doing whatever he needed to do with his newly obtained phone pictures.

Addie wrapped herself tighter in the quilt, breathing in its scent. It was woodsy, strange as it was for a flat in the middle of London. It was addictively cozy and almost felt like it was self-warming. Mrs. Hudson returned with a steaming cuppa. Addie took it, giving her thanks, and sipped the creamy, spiced mixture.

"What kinda tea is it?" she asked as the matron sat down with her own drink.

"It's one of those fancy autumn drinks they sell." she said, sounding rather delighted for having found it while shopping. But then she frowned a little. "Addie, do be careful from now on, won't you? Sherlock doesn't particularly pay attention to the needs of others."

"Hey, I can tough it out." Addie assured her with a shrug. "I mean, why else would Sherlock make me his intern? He thought I was good enough for the job."

"And entertaining enough, I would think." Mrs. Hudson shared with a disproving look. "He means quite a bit to me, for things he's done for me in the past, and I do think somewhere in there Sherlock is more human than he lets on. But I know reality when I see it." She sighed. "Our dear Sherlock does whatever he fancies, regardless of who is in the way."

Addie sipped before answering. Being rather fond of Mrs. Hudson prevented her from snapping back a biting response, for she heartily disagreed. "Sherlock wouldn't waste his time with an idiot. He said he was going to give me opportunities, and make use of my talents."

Mrs. Hudson laughed, now bristling Addie's nerves, though she continued to keep her temper in line.

"He can see both resource and humor in you, dearie. Don't underestimate his carelessness. Now, what is your home number? I might as well keep it if Sherlock insists on keeping you out past dark. You need a ride home."

After sharing her number, Addie insisted on calling her uncle herself, claiming that he never answered numbers he didn't recognize. When Mrs. Hudson walked to the kitchen to wash their cups, Addie instead called a cab service. There was no way she was going to let her Uncle Rémy know of her escapades. Often out late himself kept the man from knowing of his niece's activities.

The job was done once Mrs. Hudson returned with her coat, freshly cleaned and dry. Her boots and socks had warmed up as well. Addie assured Mrs. Hudson that her uncle was on his way to pick her up, and after she dressed and folded up the quilt, walked out the door. She did not know that Mrs. Hudson watched her walk down the street and down the corner. She did not know that worry and concern etched her aging features.

Addie later silently thanked Mrs. Hudson for urging her to return home. Just minutes after she changed from her school uniform and into her pajamas, Uncle Rémy came home and demanded to speak with her.

When she came out of her room, Addie saw that he was not angry, or even annoyed: simply serious. The blonde, olive-skinned man loosened his tie and threw it off, his outer coat following, before he started. He took some orange juice out of the fridge as Addie took a seat at the little kitchen table.

"I think I'm not raising you right." he stated after a few gulps. "When was the last time we hung out, anyway?"

"Ten years ago, at Mardi Gras. You and Papa took me to the parade and made cover my eyes half the time."

Rémy cleared his throat. The juice was returned to its spot in the fridge and faced her, leaning on the appliance. "Yeah, so your dad and I haven't always been the greatest. But this needs to change. You know how your mom got you into...well, that mess you got caught up in?"

Addie instinctively froze up at the mere mention of the event. She relaxed again just as quickly.

"_Ouais_. I remember." she stated coldly at the memory.

"The reason you got into that trouble was because your mother never bothered to keep an eye on you, and my idiot brother was no better. So, I'm going to put you under my wing more." he finished with a half-earnest smile.

Addie, however, did not like it one bit. "What? But I'm not doing anything!" _Well, I was going to until Sherlock showed up. _She pushed the burning thought out of her mind. "I'm just fine the way I am right now."

"I don't trust you." Rémy responded dryly. "Besides, we're the only Thuots left that didn't get sucked into the ring. Your Mami's side of the family was smart enough to stay out of it, and some of my cousins too, but..."

He did not need to finish. Addie tried to swallow but found her throat burning. Shadows of that time, just last summer, was thrown out of her mind before she could dwell any more on it.

"I would, but...I have an internship now." Addie slowly began.

"Internship? For you?" he asked with skepticism.

"Yeah, he works with the police department." she half-lied. "He's teachin' me stuff."

"I'll have to meet the guy then. What's his name?" Rémy asked as he looked for a snack.

"Sherlock Holmes. He has a website."

"I'd rather meet the man behind the website." He found a long lost Twinkie, and opened it. "Tell him to give me a call."

"I'll try." Addie affirmed, hiding her nervousness about the whole thing. She was so used to keeping her life private. But now not only was Sherlock deducing her past piece by piece, but her uncle would put his nose into her current life as well. It was oddly discomforting.

"It's almost nine, get to bed, will ya?" he said as he stuffed down the pastry. She went to her bed indeed, though she could not rest. Ever since Addie was caught red-handed in the theft of the ancient hair pin, her world was no longer her own. Would Sherlock share with her uncle of their escapades? Was he smart enough to say otherwise? What embarrassing things would Uncle Rémy share of her weaknesses?

Addie rolled over, facing the snow-tinted window. Reaching up to draw designs on the frost, she saw that she still wore the red metal bracelet. She smiled, continuing to play with the window and look out at the city lights before she finally fell asleep.

That Tuesday morning, Addie woke up feeling refreshed. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Christmas break started next week. Or perhaps she had momentarily forgotten about what her uncle spoke with her about last night.

Still, she dressed for school, grabbed her small breakfast, and headed out the door. After school she would have to talk with Sherlock about meeting Uncle Rémy. For now, she had to push through seven hours of testing and study hours.

Ah, studying. That's something Addie forgot to do. It would have scared her if she cared more than she did.

A part of her wondered if faking her stupidity was worth it. Maybe if she simply aced her classes, no one would bother her. The homework was dully easy, anyway. Just get the work done and get a good grade. Then again, wouldn't it look suspicious if she suddenly went from "Most Likely to Drop Out" to "Most Likely To Succeed?"

_I'll half-ass it then,_ Addie giggled to herself. _Aim for a C or something._

Liking the idea, Addie fiddled with her now-beloved bracelet and continued her way down the street. A buzzing from her pocket took her out of her inner musings. She flipped open her phone.

_We got a murder case. Meet me at 342 Umberway._

_-SH_

Addie stopped, avoiding the other commuters by leaning against the wall. She bit her lip. Should she really skip school? She only had one test today, and it was for Home Economics, the only class she was passing.

Then again, it was the last class of the day. Addie wondered if she could skip the rest of the school day and return just before the end. The test would be easy enough.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pocketed her phone back into her backpack. This was going to be a long day, and her gut churned at the thought of such an adventure.


End file.
